Chapter Text
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Jaskier didn’t sleep that night, too overcome with emotion to settle down. Every surge of anger he had locked behind a strained smile, every sob he had swallowed over the years seemed to have broken free and were now running rampant through his body. He tried to shoo them back into the corners of his mind where they belonged but they refused to budge, so instead he bit deep into his lower lip to muffle the watery gasps, dug his blunt fingernails into his palm to stifle his anger with sharp pain.
Trust. Such a simple concept, one which Jaskier had long since abandoned. Trust was for the weak, those so pitiful they had to rely on others because they could not survive on their own merit. Jaskier might not be physically strong but he was not helpless, he did what he needed to in order to survive. Yet, there was something about Geralt, something strong, steadying that made Jaskier want to rely on him, want to trust him when he knew he shouldn’t. He clutched at his hair in self-loathing, how many times would he need to learn this lesson? The baker with the wide smile who gave extra treats only to reveal his wandering hands behind closed doors, the friendly neighborhood boys who threw rocks when no one was looking, everyone was false, everyone was treacherous. This Witcher was no exception.
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The gods hated him. He had begun to suspect it when Geralt was appointed as king and he had been bullied into his current position of advisor and now he was certain. There was no other explanation for why Geralt felt the need to take the neat stack of contracts Eskel had left on his desk the other day and murder them, decorating the room with their corpses. Blessedly, one of the stacks was left untouched on Geralt’s desk. Eskel sighed as he knelt down to start collecting the massacred documents. With disgust he noticed some of them were sticky with what appeared to be jelly. Not for the first time he wondered if the kingdom would collapse if he were to quit. He loved Geralt, he really did, and he would defend his king to his death, but Geralt’s inability to complete paperwork would be the death of him. He blindly reached under the desk to feel for any abandoned sheets and grabbed something warm and soft instead. A shaky gasp had him jerking his hand back and scrambling back a few paces. He lowered himself slowly to the floor so he could peer underneath the wooden desk, his eyes easily adjusting to the deep shadows, revealing the huddled form of the little bard. Dark circles clung underneath his eyes and tears hovered at the corners.
Much as he would love to stay out of whatever was going on here, it had become a habit to try and clean up the messes Geralt inevitably got himself into with his gruff, taciturn attitude.
“Ah..kid.” Eskel said sympathetically, reaching out towards the young man. The bard froze at the movement, tracking the hands with his eyes but not moving away as Eskel settled it gently on his shoulder. Eskel would have taken this as a good sign but the shoulder did not relax under his grip, if anything the bard became even more tense, his breath even more ragged, like the hand was restraining him rather than resting lightly on his shoulder. Eskel let the hand fall away awkwardly, again the bard didn’t move, just stared at him with unconcealed suspicion, taut as a bowstring. The only movement was the slow descent of a tear down the bard’s cheek.
Eskel cleared his throat, “You know who I am?” There was no response.
“What are you doing under the table?” The bard kept his eyes trained on Eskel’s face flicking back and forth between his eyes but made no move to respond. This was getting them nowhere.
Eskel shifted back until he was sitting comfortably against the wall a few feet away from the bard, legs crossed in front of him. He could feel the bard’s suspicious eyes boring into him but he ignored them, flicking his hand to light a candle above him and pulling out some of the papers from under his arm. He hoped that if he pretended to ignore the bard long enough, he might relax a little bit and be willing to answer some questions. His eyes dragged unseeing over the marred papers in front of him, all other senses focused solely on the huddled form under the table. It was useless trying to guess what Geralt might have done to upset the little bard, Geralt probably didn’t know himself. He was smart and capable in everything but connecting to those around him. He had had such high hopes when he saw the instant connection between the two men. Just a few hours prior Eskel had seen Jaskier pulling Geralt through the marketplace jabbering on about something or another with Geralt staring at him wistfully, like Jaskier alone kept the world turning. Geralt was too hard on himself, hated the way people saw him and tended to push people away before they had a chance to do the same to him. The adoration he had seen in Geralt’s eyes apparently wasn’t enough to counteract his self-sabotaging attitude. Eskel realized he had been staring at the same word for some time, distracted by his thoughts, and quickly flipped to another page, hoping the bard didn’t notice.
He risked a quick glance under the table to check on the bard and was caught by those bright blue orbs. Jaskier was staring at him expectantly, what the bard wanted from him he wasn’t sure. But when he put down the stack of papers he had been pretending to read the bard looked disappointed for some reason. At least the boy wasn’t crying anymore, instead he just looked drained. Eskel turned towards the bard but kept his distance, not wanting to spook the kid again.
“You know he didn’t mean it.” Eskel said softly. The boy stiffened at those words. “Whatever he said, whatever he did, I know he didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Eskel let those words settle for a bit, he could tell the bard was mulling them over.
“Does that make it alright?” The bard asked quietly. From anyone else the question might have sounded rhetorical but there was no sarcasm in the quivering voice. That more than anything made the advisor hesitate and think carefully before answering.
“No,” Eskel sighed, “That does not make it alright.” He got to his feet and dusted himself off. “Well, I am headed off to bed, I suggest you do the same.” He walked over to the door and opened it, glancing behind him expecting the bard to be right behind him but he was still under the table, staring uncertainly at the door to Geralt’s bedroom.
“Aren’t you coming?” He asked gently.
The bard stared up at him in confusion, “Coming where?”
“To your room of course.”
“My room?”
Eskel could have strangled Geralt. The taciturn idiot, he wondered what else the King had conveniently “forgotten” to mention to the bard.
He motioned to the bard, “Grab your things, I’ll show you where it’s at.” And if Geralt wakes up confused and panicked finding his bard has vanished, well...karma’s a bitch.
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Geralt woke in utter bliss. The furs were tucked around his body, sealing in the heat against the brisk morning air, his head buried in the soft pillows that he had denied himself for near a month. He uncurled and stretched his legs across the length of the bed, almost groaning in satisfaction at the pleasant burning across his muscles. The room was starting to brighten with the rising sun, Geralt flipped onto his stomach and wrapped his arms around the plush pillow, not ready to start the day yet. For the first time in weeks he was warm, comfortable and... utterly alone. Most of the blankets ended up on the floor as he practically leapt from the bed, ignoring the chill air that assaulted his exposed skin. Where was Jaskier?! The side of the bed that the bard had occupied last night was woefully empty and a brief search around his quarters confirmed that the bard had left. Or was taken. He shoved that particular thought deep into the recesses of his mind and locked it away, not wanting to entertain the possibility.
While the Witchers’ territory was one of the safest areas in the continent, Witchers were by nature vigilant. No unvetted soul would be able to make it within 50 feet of the building without being apprehended. If Jaskier left the fortress, someone would have noticed. Although there was very little chance of Jaskier encountering anything dangerous in the woods surrounding the fortress, Geralt had little faith that the bard could last the night alone in the woods now that winter was coming fast. Summer had overstayed its welcome this year and Winter was not pleased. Fall was the true victim of Summer’s greed. A few nights back a chill spread over the lands and the flowers and greenery that had thrived under Summer’s protection were dead by morning. There was no graceful changing of the seasons, no final splash of color to bid farewell to Summer, no rains to wash away the rotting foliage. Everything had been frozen, captured in its suffering until Spring. Frost had settled on the windowsill in his office that he had forgotten to close in the aftermath of last night's...incident.
Geralt moved quickly to the dresser, plucked the first shirt and pants he found and dressed quickly. His heart sank further when he noticed the clothes he had unceremoniously dumped on top of his dresser last night were gone.
He burst into Eskel’s room without so much as a knock. “Eskel, he’s gone! We have to find him.”
“Geralt-”
“Every available Witcher needs to be out scouring the woods.”
“Geralt”
“Oh God, what if he froze to death last night while I slept in!” Geralt was pacing back and forth across the room, eyes fixed unseeing on the floor.
“Geralt!” This time his name was punctuated with a loud slam of Eskel’s hand on the table.
Geralt looked up to see Eskel’s bored expression as he shoved another plate full of food toward the bard that was sitting across from him. Jaskier looked startled enough for the both of him, his eyes wide at Geralt's sudden appearance and then darted away uncomfortably to look down at the bread he still had in his hands. Geralt’s heart sang and wailed simultaneously, both broken by the way Jaskier avoided his gaze and healed at the sight of his bard safe and warm. Both of Jaskier’s cheeks were stuffed with food, but at the sight of Geralt it was painfully swallowed down. The bread he had obviously been eating with gusto a few minutes before was now being picked apart by nervous fingers.
He turned from Jaskier back towards Eskel.
Completely unaffected by the tension swirling about the room Eskel said cheerfully “Why don’t you join us, we were just having a bit of breakfast.”
Like Geralt, Eskel’s chambers included a meeting room with a large round wooden table in the center for council meetings.
“Jask-” Geralt was interrupted by the loud screeching of Jaskier’s chair being pushed across the floor.
“Thank you for your assistance Eskel, I think I will be going to finish getting settled in my rooms.” While the words were spit forcefully in Geralt’s direction, Geralt didn’t miss the way Jaskier shrank away when he passed the Witcher to exit the room.
The second the door closed behind him Geralt dropped his head to the table and groaned miserably.
“Trouble in paradise?” Eskel asked, Geralt could hear the smile in his tone and he hated him for it.
“He hates me.” Geralt stated miserably.
“What did you do?” Eskel asked.
“I’m sure you know better than I do.” Geralt seethed, gesturing around the room that was thick with Jaskier’s scent.
“Jaskier was remarkably discrete with your indiscretions. So first you are going to tell me who taught you diplomacy behind my back and then you are going to tell me exactly how you fucked up and we are going to see if we can’t fix it.”